


That's not Bundling

by icaruslut



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslut/pseuds/icaruslut
Summary: Smutty short of what could have happened after that scene at the end of 1.05





	That's not Bundling

**Author's Note:**

> It's 1am, I have barely proofread but here's an hour's worth of work yay. Hope you enjoy :)

“That’s not bundling.” She laughed, breathy and feminine.

“It is in France.” A chuckle – the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

Diana turned her attention to the pressure against her thigh. She trailed her hand down his scar-flecked body. So much history, so many stories to tell. His calloused hands absentmindedly stroked circles into her shoulder. Contented, he sighed. Then, at the moment he was most relaxed, she pressed a palm to his member, savouring the groan that escaped his lips.

“My turn.” She flipped him over. She knew he let her. He was 1500 years old and, while a seemingly powerful witch... the body corded with muscles, honed from centuries, no, millennia, of life and battle and survival was like putty in her hands.

She trailed kisses from behind his ear, to the base of his neck – he growled at that, low and predatory – to each scar on his torso to his navel. And when he was quivering with restraint, that dominating beast within screaming to be let free, she sat up. He loosed a breath he didn’t know he was holding; flung an arm over his eyes, acutely aware of Diana moving, her witch-blood singing in her veins. When she kissed the base of his neck. No one. He had not let a lover so near his throat – did not trust them. But they were linked, it was unmistakable. He could easily mate with her. He would happily face the congregation and more just to take this incredible witch to bed, mark her deep and true, nurture and protect her and let himself finally feel the joy Ysabeau felt with Phillipe. But... there was that doubt – the one that hounded him and gave him the ability to not let her have her way with him. Because there was the truth – she was perhaps his match. Bringing out both the best and worst of him.

Across the room, he heard her taking the pins out of her hair and he schooled his emotions. She was brushing her hair and her intoxicating scent was wafting its way over to him. He was too wrapped up in that scent... did not sense her approaching until she the bed dipped. Then she was straddling him. He dared to move his arm. _Merde_. She was stripped of her outer clothes, left in a lovely silk bustier, hair in a simple braid behind her back. Her underwear soaked with the evidence of her desire and earlier orgasm.

Next thing he knew, she was tugging down his pants and undershorts, the full length of him springing free. She gasped, her mouth going dry. He was astounded. Enthralled. Bewitched. She beckoned him closer to the edge of the bed. Slowly, painfully slowly, her clever, wicked hands grasped him with a striking balance between gentleness and rough possessiveness. The feeling was mutual then. At the first stroke, he forgot his own name. The second, what century he was in. She was the beginning and end of time. Her strokes obliterated him like waves of the ocean. Ebbing and flowing. His lovers weren’t usually this generous. Or perhaps, in the past, he just wanted the encounters over with. But with Diana, he wanted to take his time. Wanted to cherish her, protect her...

She slid off the bed and onto her knees, his body so limp that when she dragged him towards the very edge of the bed, his limbs felt like lead. She kissed each hip before flicking her tongue against his head. His hips bucked of their own accord. She kept looking at him, wanting his permission. Wanting to know he was okay with this. Of course he was okay with this but... she wasn’t a mind reader.

“ _Please, Diana_.” A strangled plea. Her mouth lowered, taking him into her warm, inviting mouth. All he knew was her name. The name he kept mumbling as she bobbed her head and hollowed her cheeks. He could have sworn a warm tendril of air caressed his body, growing stronger as he dared to loop one of his hands in her hair, the other gripping the sheets to stop himself from claiming her fully. Her magic... he could have sworn it was... playing with him. Dancing with that darkness in his heart. He did not know, in all of his 1500 years, that it could be... like this. Breaking him apart and reforging him over and over and over again. He could feel the end sweeping over him like lightning. Could feel it rumbling in the heart that was _beating_. Slow and infrequent as it was but - she made him feel alive. Her hands moved from where they had been lightly scratching at his legs and stomach to dig almost painfully into his hips as he began the crescendo of this little performance. And... there. She made him feel so good. And he wanted to live up to that. Be the man she deserved. The aftershocks came and went and still she sucked and nibbled and licked. His body quivering with need but... not now. Not tonight.

Regaining composure once more, he pulled her from her knees and laid her beside him. “Do you find it entertaining,” he smirked. “To show off every opportunity?” She laughed, hearty and warm and so full of life.

“What can I say, I’m competitive.” She smiled, obscenely licking her lips where the taste of him remained. His answering smile was still all she could see when she finally fell asleep, after talking for hours, well into the awakening dawn.


End file.
